


build a home, tear it down

by opencirclefleet



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Ahsoka has three parents confirmed, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Multi, Obi-Wan Needs a Hug, anxiety attack mention, deception arc, eventually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-28
Updated: 2018-04-12
Packaged: 2019-04-14 00:06:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14123799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opencirclefleet/pseuds/opencirclefleet
Summary: In which Obi-Wan’s deception as Rako Hardeen may have cost him more than he bargained for.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This has been in my drafts for months now. Hopefully getting it out of my system will help me move forward on Ties That Bind. Thanks for your patience everyone - enjoy!

Obi-Wan stood outside the door to Padme’s apartment, feeling as if an invisible barrier was keeping him from entering. He’d been loitering for nearly ten minutes. By now - no matter how upset he may be (plenty, according to the faint trace of his signature) - Anakin had to have sensed Obi-Wan’s presence outside. 

He sighed. Obi-Wan went to run a hand through his hair, unconsciously pushing back his bangs as an old habit, but his hand just brushed the top of short strands. Right. It seemed everything was designed to be a reminder of his stint as a bounty hunter. 

Steeling himself for the inevitable fallout, he keyed in the access code - 

And was denied. 

Frowning, Obi-Wan typed the code in again, slower, making sure he got it right. The keypad buzzed again.  _ Access denied _ . 

_ She changed the code. _

Pain bloomed in his chest as his eyes fluttered closed. Had he truly incensed his lovers to the point of feeling the need to lock him out? A slow breath escaped him. He hadn’t realized…

Like he’d been wont to do since a youngling, Obi-Wan pushed the hurt down as far as he could before ringing the buzzer - the  _ buzzer _ , like he was a  _ stranger _ \- and waited. 

Soon enough the door slid open, revealing a clearly-unsurprised Padme. She regarded him cooly. “Yes?”

Her hair was loose from its Senate updo, wisps of hair sticking to her forehead. Never had Obi-Wan so badly wanted to brush her hair back before. His hand twitched.

“May I come in?” he asked, unsure whether he would be denied yet again. Padme nodded shortly and stepped aside. From the doorway he could see Anakin hunched over on the couch, staring fixedly at his hands on his knees. 

He didn’t look up as Obi-Wan entered. “Go away,” he growled. The Force between them was cold and dark, nearly non-existent save for the single thread necessary to keep it alive.

Padme brushed past the Jedi Master to return to her husband’s side on the couch. She, at least, met his eyes, though he suddenly realized just how terrified her enemies on the senate floor must be when she turned her attention to them. Her usual warm brown gaze pierced him and chilled him to the core.

He didn’t know which was reaction was worse.

Obi-Wan cleared his throat awkwardly. “I’d like to talk.”

“I have nothing to say to you,” Anakin spit. His head snapped up, and Obi-Wan couldn’t repress his flinch at the hot anger in smoldering blue eyes.

Padme rested a hand on Anakin’s knee, a silent, gentle chide. She looked back to Obi-Wan, challenging him to continue.

“I owe you both an apology,” he began, “ I understand you are upset at my discretion during this assignment and the way that it was handled.”

“Discretion might be a bit of an  _ understatement _ , don’t you think?”

Padme’s icy tone continued to twist knives in Obi-Wan’s gut. In hindsight, he should have been more prepared for this level of fury. He’d been ready, more or less, to deal with Anakin’s boiling rage. Secrets had never sat well with his apprentice - secrets pertaining to his Master’s health seemed to especially irritate him. To have both of them enraged at him was...unprecedented.

“The Council specifically requested I be the one sent undercover. I was doing my duty, as any of us would. I regret that it required such a deception - I’m sorry that I hurt you. Truly. But my duty is to the Republic. Surely you get that.”

Tension tangibly crackled in the room, though none of them could be sure whether or not it was a product of high emotions or the Force itself. Anakin leapt to his feet, shoulders hunched close to his ear

It had hurt, having to cut himself off from the one his life practically revolved around for thirteen years, reducing their bond until only a sliver remained. Even then, Obi-Wan hadn’t been able to reach out through it as he normally would, that small comfort robbed from him in his deception. Stars, it still felt like a hole had been ripped through his entire being without the physical blanket of the other man’s aura surrounding him. 

“You’re still not getting it,” Anakin snarled, and Force, Obi-Wan couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this angry at him since Geonosis, “You used our connection for the gain of the Council.”

“We agreed that duty comes first,” Obi-Wan argued, feeling a bit desperate to make them understand. He couldn’t...couldn’t  _ lose them  _ over this. This misunderstanding. He’d merely done what was asked of him, as any of them would have done. Surely they’d understand.

Anakin barked a bitter laugh. “We agreed to not let our relationship come before our duty to the Republic. You _knew_ what this would do to us, and you didn’t make any attempt to keep us informed, to tell us the plan, to let us know you were _alive!_ Duty may come first but you could have fucking completed the mission with us in the loop!”

“It wouldn’t have been convincing if you knew!” As soon as the words left his mouth, Obi-Wan knew it was over. A deathly silence fell over the three of them as his words hung heavy in the air.

“Convincing?” Anakin breathed, “ _ We thought you were DEAD!” _

The lights flickered. A glass vase shattered on the table to his left, but besides a collective flinch, none of them paid it any mind. Obi-Wan swallowed with an audible click, overwhelmed. 

“Padme?” he whispered, looking at her as if he was a drowning man reaching for a life preserve. She, out of either of them, would know best what he meant. She understood the importance of duty, of their allegiance to the Republic. She had to.

But Padme glanced away from him. “I think it’s best for you to go now.”

Another knife wrenched in his heart. “I…” Obi-Wan blinked. They couldn’t mean what he thought she was implying. “Are you...what does this mean for us?”

Padme got up to stand next to Anakin, chest heaving and fists clenched since his outburst. One hand smoothed down his arm til his fist uncurled and linked with hers, nudging him. She looked at him expectantly until he met her level gaze. 

“I can’t,” he said simply. Padme sighed. Obi-Wan’s stomach roiled sickeningly. 

“We need some space,” she said, turning back to him, her expression somehow apologetic and cold and furious all at once, “After everything...I don’t think it’s a good idea to continue as we are.”

Now Anakin addressed him, voice trembling with anger and hurt. “If you can’t respect us - our  _ relationship _ \- enough to give us the  _ courtesy  _ of understanding why we’re so  _ kriffing pissed,  _ let alone let us know you were alive, then you have no place in it.”

That was the final blow. Obi-Wan stood there, stunned, the world falling away from him.

“I understand,” he said numbly, bowing his head. He took one last look at the people he loved most, whose love had just been torn from him by his own fault, before turning to exit. Some selfish, immature part of him desperately wished they would call him back. They were silent as he left. 

The door barely shut behind him before his knees gave out. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Aftermath

Anakin was surprised he held himself together long enough for Obi-Wan to leave before he broke down. As soon as the door slid shut, he fell back to the couch. Padme dropped with him, pulling him to her as the tears began.

“Shh, shh,” she murmured, “I know, love. I know.”

“I hate this,” he gasped, burying his head in the crook of her neck. “I want - “ He broke off. He didn’t want to admit how badly he wanted to run after Obi-Wan, drag him back to their room and never let go. After living with the certainty that he would never again get to see, touch, talk to, hold, kiss his best friend, there was nothing in the universe he wanted more than Obi-Wan’s warm light in his presence. 

But betrayal still burned in his heart, the anger no where close to subsided. Whose fault was it they were in this position? That Obi-Wan would willingly put him -  _ both _ of them - through the agony of his death, all because the  _ blasted  _ Council had asked him to -  well. He may as well have admitted he no longer loved them. 

Padme kept her hand tangled in his hair. She had been the strong one, keeping herself together to allow Anakin the space to break. He knew she was hurting just as bad as he was. But while Anakin’s grief flowed raw and hot like lava, Padme’s cooled into unwavering resolve. It was part of what made her such a strong politician. 

When Obi-Wan had first joined their relationship, Anakin and Padme had agreed that the elder man needed a little leighway in his part. Given his upbringing, it came as no surprise when the Jedi Master had no clue whatsoever how he was supposed to act around them. Missed nights in Council meetings and skidding in late to forgotten dinners were common. More common still were the breathless apologies cut off by soft, surprised kisses, and the gentle smile that followed. The Jedi may have taken priority, but Obi-Wan always came back to them.

Until now.

“It’s alright love,” Padme said as she dropped a kiss in her husband’s unruly curls, “We’ll survive.”

 

* * *

His quarters were dark when he returned. 

Obi-Wan didn’t bother flicking on the lights, having barely made it back to the Temple before breaking. He stumbled blindly to his room, collapsing to the bed with a choked noise. Swaddled himself tight in the blankets like a child. He hadn’t thought something so simple as rejection could hurt so bad, yet his entire body ached, pain lancing out from the agony in his chest. 

He’d known from the beginning that this could be a very real possibility. He was no expert on marriage, but the probability that adding a third participant to an already healthy relationship had a decent chance of going poorly. Add to the fact that said third was an emotionally stunted, closed off, middle-aged adult with little to no experience in matters of the heart, and the chances of survival were very slim indeed. Balance of probability suggested what they had would have ended far long ago had it not been for his partners’ (nearly) ceaseless patience. 

Memories came to him, unabiden, and Obi-Wan heard himself let out a pitying groan.

_ “Are you sure?” _

_ Anakin smiled, cupping his cheek. Behind him, Padme’s arms wrapped around his middle, her chin dropping to his shoulder. “More sure than anything else,” he asserted. The thumb of his flesh hand rifled through the short hairs on his beard. _

_ Obi-Wan swallowed hard. “I’ll be no good at this, you realize.” _

_ “You’ll learn,” Padme assured him, pressing a kiss behind his ear. Warmth licked down his spine. The Jedi shivered, and felt Padme’s grin on his skin. _

_ “I’m serious,” he whispered.  _

_ “So are we.” _

_ “I have no experience with...any of this. I don’t know how fully I can commit to you,” Obi-Wan lamented, “I have a duty to the Republic that must come first. My duties to the Council may interfere with what time we have together, expressing emotions is...hard, for me, and I’ve been told I’m terrible at communicati - “ _

_ Soft lips cut him off as Anakin caught him in a deep, meaningful kiss. Obi-Wan whimpered softly, electricity sparking through his stomach. The arms around his waist tightened as Padme laughed.  _

_ Anakin pulled back with a grin, quirking a brow at the dazed - but no less pleased - look on Obi-Wan’s blushing face. “We  _ know _ ,” he murmured, “We’ll take all the time you need, love.” _

_ As he was pulled into an embrace by the both of them, Obi-Wan found that, though he was revolting against everything he’d always stood for, he’d never felt safer than with Anakin and Padme. _

Obi-Wan pulled the blankets tighter around him. How foolish he’d been, thinking himself exempt from what was forbidden. That he wouldn’t get attached or - foolish more still - that he could give them up and walk away unscathed. Qui-Gon would be so disappointed in him were he here.

Sometime in the early morning he fell asleep, exhausted, knowing the blessed darkness was only a brief respite from his world ending.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter but had a new idea so I bumped the chapters up to 4. Also idk how to put the accent on the e in Padme so sorry bout that


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter Ahsoka, the real hero

Ahsoka knew something was wrong. 

When Master Obi-Wan had revealed himself to be alive, she’d thought everything would go back to normal. She knew Anakin had been furious, of course - she herself had been quite distressed after the initial shock had worn off. After all, Master Obi-Wan had died  _ in her arms _ . Had he actually been  _ dead,  _ she supposed it would have been traumatizing. 

But Anakin was often upset with his former Master, especially when it came to a mission he’d been left out of. Something about feeling like Obi-Wan didn’t trust him. In the past, there would be a few terse days while Anakin held it over his head and Obi-Wan gave an exasperated apology with a roll of his eyes, followed by a shouting match when the stewing pot of emotions boiled over, apologies and make-up kisses (that Ahsoka, at least on record, did  _ not  _ know about), and everything went back to normal. Rinse, cycle, repeat.

That hadn’t happened.

When Anakin wasn’t out stalking the streets of Coruscant (or in a certain senator’s apartment, (because Ahsoka may be young, but she wasn’t stupid), he tinkered with his Delta-6, sparred fierce and silent with his padawan, or stayed locked in his Knight’s quarters. There was no contact between him and Obi-Wan to be heard of. Not even passing one another in a hallway resulted in so much as a moment of eye contact. Ahsoka almost felt suffocated by the palpable tension between them.

Hells, the whole  _ Temple  _ could feel something was up between the Negotiator and the Hero with No Fear, the supposedly inseparable Team. Whispers already followed Master Kenobi’s wake from his deception as the bounty hunter Rako Hardeen. Master Skywalker refusing contact with what was well know as his best (and possibly only) friend in the Temple made for a rather vicious rumor mill.

Since their first introduction, so long ago on Christophsis, Ahsoka had been sure her masters’ relationship could weather anything the war threw at them. Now, she wasn’t so sure.

She felt rather helpless, unintentionally cut off from both Anakin and Master Obi-Wan. The media storm following Obi-Wan’s revealed status as Very Much Alive had caused the Council to put him, Anakin, and Ahsoka on temporary planetary lockdown. While Anakin sulked, and with nothing else to do, Ahsoka was forced into taking this time to catch up on her classes.

Intergalactic politics and diplomacy was a worse punishment than being Temple bound. Why bother learning the policies of hundreds of planets when a lightsaber worked just as well? Although Anakin shared her sentiment, Master Cynta, a rigid, shrill-voiced Quarren Master Windu’s age, did not. 

Today, though, Master Cynta did not come charging impatiently through the door. Instead, Master Obi-Wan strolled in, managing to look as composed and intimidating as ever despite his shorn hair sticking up in ridiculous directions. Were it not the Negotiator himself, Sith-slayer and High Council member, her classmates might’ve laughed.

Ahsoka’s breath caught in her throat.

“Good morning, class,” Master Obi-Wan said. A reserved chorus responded. “As you know, Master Cynta has been called into active duty and unfortunately will be unable to finish this course with you. I’ll be stepping in until a permanent substitute can be found. Let’s make this as painless as possible, shall we?”

There was that trademark half-grin, effortless confidence and charm rolling off him in a classic Kenobi way. Only someone close to him would have noticed the slight tensing of his shoulders as twinkling blue eyes made brief contact with Ahsoka’s, registered she was there, then slid over her in a blink. Unfortunately, Ahsoka had almost two years of what the Jedi would consider closeness with him. She noticed.

The class indeed pass rather painlessly. Her classmates’ attentiveness was more acute than she’d even seen, and were her stomach not a twisted mess of nerves, Ahsoka would have been just as entertained by Master Kenobi’s wry humor on the subject. Several times she imagined he glanced her way. An idea popped into her head; she held onto it until the end of the lecture, steeling her resolve. 

After the lesson, several students stayed behind to chat with Master Obi-Wan. Ahsoka waited impatiently behind them, twisting her fingers in a nervous tic. There was no way her grand-master hadn’t seen or sensed her waiting, but he took his time to answer the questions lobbed at him. Once her classmates took their leave and Obi-Wan went to collect his datapads, Ahsoka stepped forward.

“Master? Do you have a minute?” 

By now they were alone in the room. Master Obi-Wan visibly tensed, but he turned a tight smile towards her. “Of course, Padawan. How can I help you?”

Ahsoka hesitated. So many emotions swirled up inside her and tangled in a mess of thoughts. The fear she felt watching Obi-Wan fall from the rooftop after being shot, the gut-wrenching grief as she held his limp body in her arms, the icy resolve to hunt down his murderer. How angry she had been at first, knowing the cause of her nightmares had been an illusion, that she had been used as a pawn in Master Kenobi’s scheme. The pure, uncomplicated, joyous relief when she found out he was alive. 

A confused crinkle appeared between his brows. “Padawan?”

Without a second thought, Ahsoka flung her arms around her grand-master. He stiffened, clearly expecting her to yell, scream, attack him. Anything but an already rare display of physical affection. Ahsoka tightened her arms around him in the fear of being pushed away. Hazily, she realized she’d never hugged Obi-Wan before. His rough-spun tunics scratched her cheek, and he smelled of Temple-issued soap and cologne and the Hasa tea he brewed her when nightmares of blasterfire and explosions came in the night. And she was definitely getting taller; her head reached his shoulder now, which her forehead was buried in. 

After a terrifying moment, long enough that Ahsoka started to fear rejection, Obi-Wan’s arms came around her thin frame, hesitant and shaking. Neither of them were good at wording emotions - being raised a Jedi had the tendency to do that. So they stood there for longer than would have been acceptable in their culture.

Eventually, Obi-Wan murmured, “I’m sorry, Ahsoka.”

“Next time let us in on the plan, yeah?” she whispered, gentle and teasing. She pulled back and discretely wiped a few stray tears from under her eyes. 

An odd expression graced the Master’s face, akin to relief or - dare she say it - affection. “I sincerely doubt there will be a next time,” he said, and if his refined Coruscanti accent was a little hoarse, Ahsoka pretended not to notice.

“Good. I’d hate to explain  _ that  _ to the tabloids.” Humor, so much easier to voice than the feelings they’d just silently acknowledge, seemed to be the best course of action, for Obi-Wan gave a soft chuckle. “I have another class to go to. See you around?”

Neither of them knew if that were true - as Ahsoka’s master, Anakin could limit her interaction with anyone he deemed a negative influence on her. To do so with Obi-Wan would be a stretch, but not unsurprising given his own avoidance of the Councilor. Both were aware this was a possibility. 

Despite this, Obi-Wan nodded. “Enjoy your classes, padawan.” The familiar warmth in the way he acknowledged her title made her smile, and Ahsoka left feeling better than she had in weeks.

 

* * *

“Talk to Obi-Wan.”

Anakin looked up from the droid he was deconstructing on their table as his padawan entered their quarters. Surprise crossed his face, then he scowled.

“I have nothing to say to him.”

“Wrong,” Ahsoka corrected, plopping down next to him on the couch. The easy camaraderie between them had been hard-won over the years, Anakin’s initial reluctance to take a padawan melting as Ahsoka wormed her way into his heart. That, plus her bolstered resolve via her interaction with Master Kenobi, left her feeling good about being blunt with him. “You’re just stubborn as a bantha and mad at him. You know he doesn’t deserve what you’re doing to him.”

Anakin’s frown deepened. He worked his wrench further into the droid’s sparking guts. “I thought you’d at least be on my side. He  _ died _ , Snips. He made us watch; he let us live like that for days, and he wasn’t even going to tell us. I didn’t…you know I didn’t take it well. Neither did you.”

Oh, Ahsoka remembered. All too well. The days after Obi-Wan’s funeral were horrid; Anakin didn’t eat, didn’t sleep, didn’t speak. He curled up in Obi-Wan’s bed, clutching one of his cloaks to his chest, while Ahsoka begged him to get up. Finally, after countless fruitless attempts, she’d given up and climbed in with him.  _ “I miss him too _ ,” she’d admitted, the words lingering heavy in the air. Their bond had been walled off, save for the tendrils of grief that escaped both of their shields. Only revenge on his Master’s presumed murderer had been enough to snap him out of mourning. 

Residual anger bubbled in her stomach at the memory. Part of her wanted to give in and agree with her Master. Instead, Ahsoka rolled her eyes. 

“I was there. He died with  _ me _ , remember? The mind healers said it was traumatic or whatever. But we both know he’s sorry and I’ve  _ forgiven him _ . Why can’t you do that? How big is the lightsaber up your butt, Master?” Ahsoka nudged his shoulder playfully.

Anakin’s expression - and their bond - darkened. “Drop it Snips. You’re talking about things you don’t understand.”

“I understand a lot more than you give me credit for. You’re really not as discreet as you think you are. Neither of you.” At Anakin’s wide-eyed look, Ahsoka grinned, “For Force’s sake, my quarters on the  _ Resolute _ are right next to yours, and in case you haven’t noticed, I have ears. It’s not starship science.  _ Talk to him _ . For me.”

By now Anakin’s eyebrows were buried in his hairline, his mouth just slightly agape. He blinked, twice, processing the revelation that his padawan knew  _ exactly  _ what he and Obi-Wan used to get up to. His shoulders slumped. “Fine. Tomorrow.” Ahsoka fixed him with a looked, and he threw up his hands. “I have somewhere to be tonight! Tomorrow, promise.”

Satisfied, Ahsoka leant her montral against his shoulder. Contentment floated through her end of the bond. “Good. But if I find out you don’t, I might have to take a trip over ‘somewhere’ and have a talk with Senator Amidala.”

The dropped wrench and scandalized spluttering that followed had her doubled over laughing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always wanted to see Ahsoka and Obi-Wan's relationship play out on screen. Hopefully I'll get the final chapter out soon :)  
> EDIT: It has come to my attention that Ahsoka does not, in fact, have ears. Let's, uh, mark that down as taking a creative liberty.


	4. Chapter 4

 

Obi-Wan woke up to the blankets twisted suffocatingly tight around him and his heart threatening to burst through his chest. Struggling only made things worse - the cloth prison tightened, the walls were closing in on him, his throat refused to let air into his burning lungs.They needed to be off, off,  _ off. _ Only after thudding to the floor did he find himself free of the restraints.

He scrambled to his feet. The darkness was suffocating - he needed  _ out. _ Somehow his cloak ended up wrapped around his thin frame, boots slid on by habit.

Feet stumbled to the door in a blind panic, tripping over untied laces, his stomach threatening to upend its contents at any given moment. The world was narrowed down by the darkness edging his vision. The Force whispered to him - his subconscious followed through, clinging to the bright light at the end of the tunnel, the soothing balm to his wounds.

In the morning, he would not remember commandeering a speeder from the hangar. Wouldn’t remember whizzing like a madman through late-night Coruscant traffic on autopilot and parking it neatly on the balcony of a 500 Republica level with no small guidance from the Force itself. Nor would he remember the cruel nightmare that drove him to such desperate lengths. When this had happened before, so long ago, he hadn’t remembered either.

All he knew was the comforting presence of two beings in the next room like a beacon drawing him safely to shore. Then, collapsing, he knew no more.

* * *

 

Early morning sunlight filtered through the windows’ shading program, coloring the inside of Anakin’s eyelids a dull orange. Soft hair tickled at his nose, the light breaths of his wife puffing against his collarbone, and though solid weight at his back was missing, he was growing used to that. The Force was humming a pleasant vibration, both signatures the peaceful frequency of deep sleep.

He frowned sleepily. Something felt...off...

Both signatures?

Anakin’s eyes snapped open. Jolting awake, he shoved the blankets off and swung his legs over the edge. Confusion more than anything else had him striding into the other room.

Padmé, jostled out of sleep, called, “Ani!”, but he didn’t answer.

His breath caught at the sight.

Obi-Wan was asleep on their couch, looking rather like he’d passed out from exhaustion. Dark circles lined his eyes; the sharp gauntness ghosting his face since the start of the war had worsened. His still-short hair stuck up in all directions, making him seem years younger. He was a mess, mismatched in rumpled sleep-clothes under an ubiquitous cloak and unlaced boots half falling off. 

Something was wrong. Goddesses knew how he’d manage to get in - or why, for that matter, he would do so only to fall asleep in their living room. 

He sensed Padmé’s surprise behind him, heard the quiet “Oh,” as she caught sight of the Jedi Master. Anakin’s mind, the part still raw with betrayal, wanted to roughly shake him awake and haul him up, throw him out of their home and tell him never to come back. On the other hand, his heart whispered to leave him to the rest he so obviously needed.

Anakin had never been good at ignoring his heart. He stepped toward the couch.

“Anakin…” Padme warned behind him. She herself felt conflicted over the intrusion, but, having already decided to let it go, she wanted to temper her husband’s potential anger. 

But Anakin was calm. Obi-Wan shifted as he draped a light blanket over him. A soft sigh escaped his slightly parted lips - Anakin felt his heart throb. 

“I’ll make breakfast,” he said quietly. Padme pretended not to hear the break in his voice.

* * *

 

Several long hours (and an even longer, raw and honest conversation) later, they were sitting at the kitchen table when a soft rustle signalled Obi-Wan’s slow awakening. There seemed to be a moment of blissful ignorance before he realized just exactly  _ where  _ he was. Obi-Wan bolted upright. 

Anakin and Padme watched as he looked wildly around the room before finding them, eyes widening in some mix of horror, shame, and fear. 

“Good morning,” Padme called, and were the situation not so dire Anakin wanted to laugh at the sheer mortification coloring Obi-Wan’s presence in the Force.   
His mouth worked silently like a gaping goober fish. “I - I’m -”

Padmé took pity on him. “Breakfast is ready if you want it,” she said, gesturing to the table laden with flatcakes and caff. 

“There’s tea,” Anakin added. 

Slowly, as if unsure this was some sort of cruel trick or dream, Obi-Wan rose from the couch and padded over. He slid into a seat with the care and grace of someone ready to bolt at a moment’s notice. Even the steaming cup of his preferred tea that Padmé slid towards him was eyed with suspicion. He wrapped a hand around it and took a sip - an excuse to prolong having to talk.

Anakin cleared his throat, feeling rather awkward. He called on his earlier conversation with Padmé for patience. “So,” he began, “Do you want to explain why you’re here?”

Red blush flooded Obi-Wan’s cheeks. He refused to look anywhere but his cup. 

“It’s....Bant calls them anxiety attacks. I’ve had them since I was young. I tend to get up to some trouble, although I can’t remember anything. They used to be much more common when I was a padawan, but lately they’ve...subsided.”

The mind healers had said it had to do with his past - a fear of rejection, of not being good enough, feeling the need to prove himself time and time again. Qui-Gon wasn’t at fault for not wanting to take a padawan, but his staunch refusal and later reluctance at the start of Obi-Wan’s apprenticeship had scored a deep mark in his confidence. 

“Recently?” Padme hazard a guess. Obi-Wan nodded. Unspoken, it was understood that being welcomed into their relationship had helped keep these anxieties at bay. Removing himself from their vicinity had brought it all flooding back. 

The three were silent for a long moment after that, Anakin and Padmé waiting for Obi-Wan to elaborate, and the elder man caught in a desperate desire for the floor to open and swallow him whole. The tips of his ears were bright red with discomfort. 

Extending the olive branch, Padmé reached a hand out to lay on Obi-Wan’s bare arm. The Jedi stiffened. Fear rolled off him in waves in the Force, twisting Anakin’s stomach with guilt.

“I think it’s possible we were not very fair to you before,” she murmured, rubbing her thumb gently over his rapid pulse, “Would you like to talk?”

Obi-Wan looked to her, wide-eyed, adam’s apple bobbing in his pale throat. His mouth opened, but no words came out. Instead, Anakin was terrified to hear a choked noise escape, pained blue eyes filling with rapid tears.

None of this seemed to surprise Padmé - kind, gentle, loving Padmé, who always knew what to do. She was the epitome of calm, pulling Obi-Wan to her with all the tenderness of a mother soothing a scared ghostling.

“I’m sorry,” he gasped wetly, breath hitched so hard he could barely get the words out, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry - “

“Shh, we know, it’s alright. We know.” Padmé pressed his head against her shoulder as Anakin’s mind snapped out of his daze, moving to encircle him from behind. He buried his face in Obi-Wan’s mussed hair, breathing in the familiar scent of his shampoo while a few tears of their own squeezed from his eyes. They held on for dear life as sobs wracked his body. 

Emotions ran high in the room, and when Obi-Wan finally pulled away, eyes puffy and bloodshot, Anakin had to wipe his nose discreetly on his sleeve. 

“I should have told you from the beginning,” Obi-Wan croaked, “I hadn’t realized how….difficult it would be for you.”

Not until he had been forced away from them, the prospect of a long, agonizing future alone stretching endless ahead, had Obi-Wan thought what must it feel to them to lose him. Jedi were taught to celebrate life instead of grieving loss. Perhaps being given no time to mourn his own fallen Master prevented him from truly understanding the ramifications of his death.

“What I don’t understand is how you wouldn’t see how much this would hurt us,” Anakin argued, throat tight, “That it would _ destroy  _ us. You saw what happened with - with my mother. You know how much we love you.”

Obi-Wan’s shoulders tightened close to his ears. He ducked his head. “No, I don’t think I did.”

Padmé took his hand in hers, urging him to explain, brown eyes soft with worry.

He took a breath. “I never imagined I’d have...any of this,” he continued, “I admit, when you first wanted me to join you, I thought it was - temporary. In the back of my mind, I suppose I assumed you wouldn’t care as much as you did. If I died. That you might grieve, but ultimately move on.”

“ _ What? _ ” Anakin exploded in disbelief. Reaching out along their bond - open again, bright gold and brilliant in the Force - verified what Obi-Wan was saying. “Of  _ course  _ we -  _ how - ?” _

Obi-Wan shrugged. Fingers tightened around his, and he looked up to what he knew was Padmé’s puzzled, putting-together-the-pieces expression. 

“You expected our relationship to end when you came back, didn’t you?” she asked. When he nodded, she closed her eyes with a grimace. “But not because we’d be mad. Because we’d have moved on.”

“Oh,” Anakin’s eyes widened, “Stars, Master.”

Their third shrugged, letting out a heavy sigh. “When I realized I’d lost you not because you didn’t care, but because you  _ did _ , and I’d ruined it…”

He trailed off. _ It broke me,  _ remained unsaid. Anakin made a low, agonized whine before pulling Obi-Wan back into his arms. 

Padmé bent her head to nuzzle against him. “We are still  _ unbelievably  _ cross with you, Obi-Wan Kenobi,” she murmured, kissing away the frown her words brought, “But we forgive you.”

His breath hitched. “I don’t deserve - “

“Oh, shut up old man,” Anakin growled, heatless. A gentle hand turned his chin in order to kiss him soundly. “Just promise. Never again.”

“Never,” Obi-Wan agreed. The three of them stayed like that for a while, huddled together, relishing in the feel of being reunited, until the chiming of Padmé’s comm broke in as a cold reminder that the rest of the world was waiting. Padmé separated from them with a kiss to each forehead.

“Duty calls,” she said with a wry grin. She left her boys to go get dressed for a Senate briefing while Anakin stood and led Obi-Wan back over to the couch, curling protectively around the other man. 

Obi-Wan released a breath, the tight, nauseating knot in his chest loosening for the first time since Naboo. He tucked his face into the crook of Anakin’s neck as his gloved mech hand came up to tangle in his hair.

They were okay, he assured himself. The war would drag on, lives lost, planets turned to rubble, with no guarantee all three would make it through unscathed. But for right now, in this moment, they were ok. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's a wrap! First finished multi-chapter fic on here. Have a few ideas in the works that I may post soon. Thanks for reading!


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